Fallout
The door to the apartment flew open so hard there was a sharp 'crack' from the wood around the hinges. Javier Esposito didn't seem to notice as he slammed the door shut, eliciting another sharp 'crack' from the doorframe.
Esposito threw his jacket at the sofa. It skidded over the back and plopped onto the floor, but he didn't seem to notice. He strode over to the liquor cabinet and yanked it open. He reached in and grabbed the first bottle he came to… and then paused when he saw it was his bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey. He hated the stuff. He only kept the bottle around for his partner… ex-partner… Kevin Ryan. He turned and hurled the bottle against the wall. It exploded in a shower of glass shards and amber liquid. There was a shout from the apartment next door. Esposito ignored it.
Without even looking, he reached in the cabinet and pulled out the next bottle. Tequila. Yeah. That would work.
He flopped onto the couch, pulled the stopper from the bottle and took a long pull. Then he started coughing. It has been a long time since he had done straight tequila. He willed himself to stop and took another pull.
He slammed the bottle down and stared at the far wall. "Son of a bitch," he murmured.
There was a flash and an immediate clap of thunder. Esposito flinched.
He felt a tear roll down his cheek and angrily rubbed it away with the heel of his hand. It was the tequila, he told himself. It was making his eyes water.
Another flash-crack of lightning and thunder. This time he didn't flinch. He reached for the bottle again.
His phone buzzed, vibrating against the floor in the pocket of his jacket. He ignored it. There wasn't anyone he wanted to talk to right now.
He took another pull from the bottle and then reached for the remote. He spent the next couple minutes surfing through the channels and taking hits from the tequila, although he wasn't really focused on either. Half the time he raised the bottle to his lips only to lower it again without even bothering to take a drink. Finally, he turned off the TV and dropped the bottle onto the table.
He rubbed his eyes.
Maybe he should call Beckett. What was she going through? My God – she resigned! Esposito ran his hand across his face. Beckett resigned. He was suspended. And Ryan… Ryan… He reached for the bottle again, knocking it over.
"Damn," he whispered.
He stood and turned toward the kitchenette to get a towel. A loud banging on his door brought him up short. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the door. He slid over to a side cabinet and pulled out his backup piece. Then he moved to the door, standing off to one side, his weapon up at the ready position.
"Who is it?" he called.
"Javier, it's me," came the familiar voice of Lanie Parish. "Open this damn door right now."
Esposito lowered his weapon and opened the door…
Only to stagger backwards when Lanie's hand connected with a loud 'slap' against his cheek.
"What the hell?" he stammered as he stepped back, rubbing his cheek.
"What the hell is right," Lanie yelled. "What the hell were you thinking?" Esposito opened his mouth to reply, but Lanie cut him off with a glare that could have made one of her corpses flinch. "You weren't thinking," she continued. "Beckett I can understand. She's half crazy when it comes to her mother's case. But you!" She poked him in the chest. "I expect more out of you, Javier. You're supposed to be watching her back, not running off like a damn puppy dog when she goes charging in."
"But…" Esposito stammered. "I…"
Lanie advanced on him again. He flinched back but she was too quick. Instead of hitting him again, however, she grabbed him and locked him in a fierce embrace. "Oh God, Javi…" she moaned. "I heard the call… shots fired… I was so worried."
Esposito finally recovered his equilibrium enough to wrap his arms around her, too. He tried to speak, but no words would come. Instead, the tears he had been holding back streamed from his eyes and mingled with the raindrops on her coat.